


all you have to do (dream dream dream)

by fangirl_squee



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Dream Sex, F/M, Spoilers for up to episode 3 of Spring in Hieron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 03:42:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16485278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee
Summary: whenever i want you / all i have to do / is dream, dream dream dreamRosana and Hadrian find a way to communicate.





	all you have to do (dream dream dream)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to maddie, for betaing and for being right about Hadrian (he's good. He's sometimes a fool, but he's good).

Rosana has always been a practical woman. She knows the most likely answer to Hadrian’s long absence. Hieron has always been dangerous, and his path through it especially so, but now it seems as though the chance of anyone outside their small patch at the university being alive is close to impossible.

 

Even so, even with years of saying goodbye to each other as though it were the last time, even with the world on fire, it is hard to accept it as truth. Part of that is Ben, who will sometimes look up from the fire at night and ask for stories of his father to keep him company while he waits for Hadrian’s return. She and Hadrian agreed long ago to try to protect Ben from the worst of the world for as long as they both could. It is hard to think of a worse thing in Ben’s world, and so she tells him stories when he asks and doesn’t chastise him for keeping an eye on the horizon, waiting.

 

The other part is the dreams.

 

As much as Rosana is a practical woman, she is also a woman of faith, and as such is no stranger to odd dreams; dreams to be dissected later for prophecy and meaning. But dreams such as these she has never had.

 

Hadrian visits her most nights. He takes her hands in both his, like he did at their wedding, like he always did after he returned from a long journey, and he feels as warm and as solid as anything in her waking life. Sometimes they walk together through the gardens that used to be in Velas in their youth, sometimes by an unfamiliar dock. A handful of times they have talked together across their own kitchen table, in their home that no longer exists.

 

They talk of how Benjamin's doing, his small triumphs and tragedies. Hadrian seems sad to miss them, as demanding for stories of Ben as Ben is for stories of him. They talk, more haltingly, of how she’s doing. It has never been easy for her to admit to faltering under burdens, and Hadrian has never been one to push against it (both a blessing and curse, for their marriage). Still, he squeezes her hand, and she leans against his shoulder as they watch the waves, and things feel lighter for a little while, even after she wakes.

 

Hadrian speaks of meeting Samothes, all flushed cheeks and excitement, making Rosana laugh as he stumbles over his words. Even if they are only dreams, she is glad some part of her would create a version of their Lord that is kind to him. It is, perhaps, sacreligious to create such a dream, but Rosana can thinking of no one who has made more sacrifices in Samothes's name than her husband.

 

(Perhaps  _ herself _ , she thinks, in her less faithful moments, when she feels Hadrian’s absence most keenly.)

 

It isn’t until Sunder holds up a broken sword and tells them of Hadrian and his groups’ entrapment that Rosana truly knows for sure that they were not merely dreams. She doesn’t tell the others. She’s not sure they would believe her. After all, she barely believes herself.

 

He’s there when she goes to sleep that night, in the small garden they made together, taking her hands as he always does. This time, she presses forward, embracing him, resting her head on his chest. She can feel the beat of his heart under his shirt. Alive, alive, alive.

 

“Rosana?”

 

The material of his shirt is damp under her face. She didn’t even realise she’d started to cry.

 

“You’re alive,” Rosana manages to say.

 

Hadrian frowns. “Of course I am.”

 

She laughs, cupping his cheek in her hand to draw him down and press their foreheads together. Her eyes slip closed for a moment, drawing comfort in the movement mirrored in a thousand moments of their lives.

 

“They found your sword,” says Rosana, and begins to explain.

 

Hadrian sits down half-way through her explanation. The metal chair squeaks, just the same as their real one on their back porch had, as she settles on his lap. His arms are solid around her and she curls her hands in the fabric of his shirt, holding each other close. 

 

“I was trying to get a message to you, I’ve been-” Hadrian breaks off, huffing a laugh. “I guess I didn’t need to worry. You found a way instead. And this is much more detailed than yelling through a cave.”

 

“I don’t think I did,” says Rosana. “Or, not on purpose. I only thought of you often.”

 

Hadrian’s arms tighten around her. “As did I. Perhaps Our Lord Samothes helped?”

 

“No,” says Rosana, looking up at him, “I think this was something we did together.”

 

She leans her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart for a while. She can feel the tension ease from Hadrian’s body bit by bit.

 

“What will you do?” says Rosana, “If they fix the sword?”

 

“I don’t know,” says Hadrian, as honest to a fault with her as he ever was, “but I would never stop trying to return to you.”

 

There’s a feeling caught in her throat that she has not felt for many years - the way she used to feel when they were newly courting, and Hadrian would be called away. She slides her hand through his close-cropped hair, pulling him down to kiss her. Hadrian melts under her touch as he always has, opening easily for her, welcoming her touch. It’s not so much the feeling that this is the last time she might see him, but more of a hope that it won’t be, as though she is trying to chase away the finality of it with her own body.

 

Hadrian responds in kind, tilting backwards until the world around them shifts into their bedroom, familiar worn sheets under him. Rosana laughs, breathless, stretching out on top of him. This is the first home they made together, here in their marriage bed, before quests and gods and judgements interrupted them. She tilts his face towards her to kiss him again.

 

Hadrian’s body fits to hers as it always has, and he lets her guide his hands, fitting them along her thighs, around her waist. She rolls her hips against his and he lets out a sudden breath, his finger digging into her waist. She repeats the motion, slower, and slower still, grinning as he bites back a moan.

 

Rosana is just beginning to think about how to shed their layers of clothing in the quickest way possible when the clothes simply melt away. She and Hadrian look at one another for a moment before laughing. She presses her face into his shoulder.

 

“Was that you,” manages Hadrian. “Or me?”

 

“I believe, my love, that much like this dream, it was both of us,” says Rosana, pressing a kiss to his bared shoulder.

 

Hadrian’s hands slide down her body, warm on her skin, the sensation new and familiar all at once. She shivers, kissing a line up his neck to claim his mouth again. 

 

His thigh slips between her legs and Rosana gasps at the friction of it, seeking more. The heat in her gut feels matched by the heat of the room, pulsing, driving her to press closer. Hadrian palms her breasts and Rosana arches into his touch. She can feel Hadrian’s eyes on her, focused in his worship.

 

She reaches up to cover his hand with hers, tangling their fingers together and kissing his palm. She hears his breath catch. She presses another kiss to it before guiding it down to the space between her legs. Hadrian follows her guidance well, and soon she’s gasping, her hips losing rhythm.

 

Hadrian whispers fragments of words into her hair, promises and declarations. She knows that he believes them all. She pulls him into a kiss, a promise and declaration of her own.

 

Her hand slides down his chest, letting her nails scrape over his stomach to hear the quiet whine he makes at the sensation before she takes him in hand.

 

“Rosana,” gasps Hadrian, like a prayer, “Rosana, can-- please?”

 

“Yes,” says Rosana, because she has never been one to deny him, either. “Yes.”

 

Hadrian lets out a sob as she sinks onto him, reaching for her. She leans down to meet him, pressing their forehead together as she rides him. She gets to feel the desperate puff of air of his breath on her lips, the muffled whine on each exhale. She can feel herself too, the heat building again, slower but no less powerful than before.

 

Rosana feels his hand slide between them again, adding another point of friction. She muffles a groan in the crook of his neck, mouthing at the spot under his jaw where she knows his skin is the most sensitive. He shudders but his hand keeps its steady pace, devotion clear on his face.

 

She pulls him to her as she tumbles over the edge, curling around his body. Hadrian keeps her close, following close behind her. They lie together, panting, in the heat of it. Hadrian curls against her side, burying his face in her hair and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She smiles, clumsily finds his hand and tangles their fingers together, keeping as much of their bodies entangled as possible.

 

She can feel it, when the dream around them starts to fade. Hadrian must feel it too, clinging to her tighter in response. Rosana studies his face, as though she hasn’t long since committed it to memory.

 

“I’ll make this for us again,” says Hadrian.

 

Rosana shifts to face him, kissing him softly. “Just come back to me. We can fix the rest together.”

 

“I’ll find a way, I love you, I’ll find a way back,” says Hadrian, voice echoing, distant.

 

“I love you,” says Rosana, her own voice echoing. “Stay safe, I love you.”

 

She blinks, and the low tent ceiling is above her again. She takes a long breath in, and lets it out slowly. She pushes herself up and out of bed.

 

There is much to do.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi: mariusperkins on most places


End file.
